


The Silence In An Explosion

by kalixis



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Adult Trolls (Homestuck), Ascended Titles, Class Friends, Court Trial, Death Sentence, F/F, Gen, Other, Rebellion, Sadstuck, Sufferer 2.0, Teal Bloods, Teals, Trolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26304292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalixis/pseuds/kalixis
Summary: You are Tagora Gorjek. You may have been a child once, but it was time to be an adult.Alt: In which Tagora Gorjek earns a new title, and Tyzias Entykk loses two.
Relationships: Tagora Gorjek & Tirona Kasund, Tyzias Entykk & Tagora Gorjek, Tyzias Entykk/Stelsa Sezyat
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	The Silence In An Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, my girlfriend and I came up with this concept, and I decided to write it out. It's kinda short, but ah well, I tried. Otherwise, happy reading! Critiques and suggestions are appreciated!
> 
> (Headcanon is that Tagora treats/treated Tirona like a little sister— kinda like HC Lanque and Wanshi)
> 
> P.S. I know I put the word 'fucking' in there one too many times, but sometimes, it just helps.

Being an adult was tiring. It wore you down. It often made you loathe yourself almost more than you could loathe another troll. The training, the work, the bullshit— it was all a load that piled right onto your back that you had to walk with until you were squished under it all. Then, you were expected to crawl.

Admittedly, being a child on a planet that would kill you if its society wouldn’t wasn’t much better, but it was certainly easier than this. You remember when you were a child— oh if only life weren’t such a bitch and kept going without you— worrying about school projects, slighting class friends. How simple things were. None of you or your… associates? Classmates? Partners? Oh damn it all, friends, took any of your time seriously. After all, 10 sweeps was forever. In the span of 10 sweeps was what felt like a lifetime of possible happenings. And there was so much, it felt like you’d lived more than a full life by just living those 10 sweeps on Alternia. 

It’s felt far too long since you were allowed to feel the juvenile glee that was ambulance chasing. Or getting into quadrants. Or making friends with aliens. Not necessarily in that order. You realize now, of course, that you and your friends were all foolish. 10 sweeps was nothing compared to the eternities living on the ships felt like. It should have been cherished for the gift it was, not disregarded for the privilege it was thought to be. 

But you suppose that the sweeps paid off, in one of the universe’s bouts of sick, sweet irony. Or at the very least, it paid off in the eyes of the empire. You graduated as one of the top legislacerators of your class. The others, of course, all being your friends— what more had you expected from them? Passing exams was easy enough, and the final mock trial was almost something of legend, earning the highest of regards and recommendations from your higher-ups. It would of course end up being one of the shorter-lived victories of Tagora Gorjek, as you all had to prepare to be sent off-planet and be put through your Ordeals. The hell of the Ordeals was one unspoken, but from that hell reaps citizens deemed worthy. Out of you came The Magnaten.

Tonight, however, was not a night for reminiscing or nostalgia. It was not a night for sentiment. It couldn’t be. This was a night that was about to prove whether any amount of your sweeps of life had truly meant something. Because, in all of them, you had never been assigned a case this big. Or this pertinent. You were to be representing the Empire. Perhaps more importantly, albeit symbolically, the Empress herself. The case was one regarding a growing underground rebellion. It was almost blatantly obvious what the Empire was doing to you, but nevertheless, you were given the necessary information and access to more if needed. The accused was newly titled The Defender, though formerly, The Restless.

But you, of course— you knew her as Tyzias Entykk.

* * *

It burnt. The shackles, yes, though it was more than just that that burnt. But you didn’t have the time for fuckwhat metaphors, as poetic as they may have been at this moment. Though, if you did, you would say it’s almost akin to an honor, wearing shackles just like those of the troll who inspired you; If you were going to be a real spaz about it, maybe it was almost prophetic if they were the exact same ones. You, however, have been forced to live with the bare minimum for grub and water in a miserable holding cell for a good wipe or so and you would have to say it’s definitely less than glamorous, so the shackles were the least of your problems.

You’ll be the first to give yourself a pat on the back, though. The Empire may have caught you, but it took them sweeps. You figured it was going to happen eventually, but for it to have taken this long wasn’t something to laugh at. Now you could only hold out hope that they wouldn’t identify the people who were helping you. Though, perhaps, it was practically useless at this point. Leading a secret rebellion was a skill, but now that the heart of the operation had been ripped from it (as narcissistic as it was to call yourself that), it was only a matter of time before the blood would be spilled.

But you hardly think any of this was in vain. Just like the Sufferer’s efforts weren’t. Just like those after you won’t be. Every person caught, every threat detained, every leader silenced— it was all a constant reminder to this gogforsaken empire that the people aren’t stopping, and that they never will. Not even in your soon-to-come last moments were you going to be quiet. You would go down kicking and screaming if it was the last thing you could do. And it was going to be.

Perhaps that’s what they expected, or perhaps that’s what they wanted you to believe. It wasn’t often that the revolution was lead by someone so high on the spectrum. Or someone who was, for the longest time, one of the strongest and truest “imperialists” you could find amongst the teal ranks. Maybe that’s why they were giving you such ironic, cruel mercy now. Trials were one of the few things you were grossly familiar with. You live by the law, you die by it, you supposed.

But the shackles were starting to burn a little more painfully now. There was a knock on the door. As you were forced out of the holding cell to walk, to take up each agonizing step, you almost couldn’t feel your feet. They felt weightless— like they were dangling.

* * *

“Your Honorable Tyranny, the defendant has been charged with the crime of heresy against troll society and treason against the Empire.”

After the surprising non-struggle of unshackling and bringing her into court, the Defender was stood adjacent to you. Her eyes seemed to get lost in the floor, but every other part of her was ready to jump.

She muttered, only barely enough for the trolls around her to make it out. “What a sad illusion,” she huffed, “Honorable.”

The teal pulled herself up just enough to spit at the feet of the judge. There were no reactions— no gasps, no reprimands. But everyone saw his face sour and get just that bit angrier. Perhaps uneasily, you continued.

“The evidence will show that the defendant has been a threat to our Empire since she could formulate thought. This has been proven through multiple articles of writing pertaining to treasonous documents that have been tagged is illegal, which she had not been given prior access.”

She gave no visible reaction. At least not to the naked eye.

“Not only did she have these documents within her possession, but in her writings, she had agreed with most if not all of the traitorous claims written within these documents. Additionally, she failed to follow protocol and harbored them away instead of returning or destroying them. For this, your Honor, the defendant should be found guilty.”

A beat of silence.

“Does the defendant have an opening statement?”

“None.”

There was more to say about her silence than her words.

You breathed in sharply but quietly. There was a murmur beginning to kick in, slowly but steadily. You carefully started walking, each step trying to seem calculated, in an attempt to pass off a facade of insusceptibility.

“I would like to call the Defender to the stand.”

“That isn’t _protocol_ —”

“Would the Defender _please step up to the stand._ ”

There was a rumble in her chest, dangerously close to a growl, as she was escorted to the stand. As she was sworn in, you turned to get your materials before questioning, doing so as quickly as you could. But that’s when you saw her. Clad in pink and the Empire-sanctioned black clothing, eyes widened in shock and burning in— something. You couldn’t quite make it out. Anger, maybe sadness, and almost inherent fear. Her eyes seemed unbusied at the moment, laser-focused on what would now become her former lover. Then, they turned to focus on you. If there was any time for betrayal to bear into your soul, it was then. You swear that when your eyes met, you could see her tears forming— it almost made you feel guilty.

But there was a trial to attend to, and you must see it through.

“Am I correct in stating that this,” you paused, taking her paper and showing it to her, “is an article written by you, and in your handwriting?”

“Yes.” It was almost chilling, but you brushed it off.

“Am I also correct in stating that the references written here were all found or borrowed without permission?”

“Yes.” She was getting antsier.

“Then is it correct of the court to assume that you willingly wrote this paper, being right of mind, and have stated your agreement to the views of the references?”

“Can I answer anything but yes, at this point?”

There was an anger, but a shameless honesty along with it. “Please answer the question, Defender.”

“That was for a project, _Tagora_.” You hadn’t heard that name in so long. It burnt, how the first time you’d hear it again was spit with such venom. You could feel your tears almost like you could see Sezyat’s. “But you— you know _**damn**_ well why I agreed with it.”

She stood and, despite everyone, no one made their way to stop her. “All of this is fundamentally _fucking wrong._ A blood caste system, a planned out life— fuck, killing children like they’re nothing on a daily fucking **basis.** Empress be damned if you wouldn’t gut yourself thinking about how Tirona might be _dead_ on the streets of Alternia, Gorjek. And all for what? To enforce the rule of the precious Purple-Blues? Or the sea-dwellers? In all our time together, I think I’ve almost forgotten which boots you were trying to lick.”

She was heaving, now, screaming, and you were choking on words.

“In all of the laws we studied, I at least had the decency to admit that I knew they all worked in their favor and against anyone else’s. _**NONE**_ of this should have been allowed in the first place! There shouldn’t have been any cull-on-sight mutant bloods, or Jades confined to caves their entire lives, or Rusts and Bronzes fated to die, _or **Teals being just high enough to learn the law but still too fucking low to be scared of it.**_ Caring shouldn’t have to be weakness, and neither should having _different colored_ **fucking** _blood_! Luck just had it that we ended up in the civilization that evolved into a bunch of war-craved, murder-hungry fucking lunatics.”

There was a stunned, shocked, defiant silence. But in the silence, you remembered Alternia— its familiar brutality, its deadly sunlight, its inhabitants. You were one of them, once, and so was she, and she knew first hand any of the pain it could have caused, and any one of the people in this courtroom could be dead if they were deemed weak, and _fuck_ Tirona could be dead—

The rage in His Honorable Tyranny’s eyes was seething at best. But before anything could happen, a member of the court staff cleared their throat. “Is there anything else you would like to add, Magnaten?”

It took almost too long for you to process anything, attempting to slow your breathing and gulp any thoughts you had away.

“Nothing. I rest my case, your honorable Tyranny.” You could barely talk from the tears you were holding back.

“Then we will discuss the evidence.”

The gavel was struck and you were left there. With her, and the audience, when had there suddenly been so many people? You could see Stelsa— no, The Begetter, it would do you no good to call them by their names now— you could see her tears, her anger, directed right at you. You only wish you could begin to apologize to her. But time was quicker than you anticipated, whether or not that was to your advantage. They had already returned from deliberation.

“Will the defendant please stand.”

You looked at her, but she refused to do the same. Her head was hung, but you knew it was not in shame.

“The defendant, given name Ms. Tyzias Entykk, ascended title The Restless changed to The Defender, has been found guilty of all charges made against her. She is to be executed tomorrow at sunset.”

It was like a pin dropping in a silent room. Like the silence before an explosion. She was sentenced. Not just that, she was _done for_. You may have looked shocked, but she was… quiet. Accepting. Quietly resigned to what had just been spoken into existence.

As the court staff came to cuff her, she turned to you with—

A smile. One of her typical, quiet, tired ones. But there was something else behind it. Pain, but not even, then. It was one of hope, but a hope that was hurt and beaten and being kept by the thinnest of threads.

“I guess you’re getting what you wanted. _Perish, right?”_

You couldn’t stand looking at her. You wouldn’t admit it was out of your own guilt, at least not until you finally felt your tears falling. As quickly as you could, you gulped and looked away, hurrying to fix your things as they lead her away and to the back, but there was a commotion. Someone was shouting.

“HOW COULD YOU— HOW FUCKING COULD YOU, GORJEK? YOU WERE CLASS FRIENDS. SHE _TRUSTED_ YOU. YOU BLOODPUMPERLESS LOATHSOME SON OF A FUCK HOW COULD YOU?!”

Stelsa wasn’t even holding back her tears. But you couldn’t see that through yours.

Your breathing quicken as they fell. You were barely looking as you walked past the side doors and to the hind area of the room. That is until you heard shackles.

Walking behind you was… Tyzias. You looked at her with as straight a face as you could afford, but for once in her life, she seemed to show something other than loathing for you. She looked like a myriad of things. Indescribable, bloodpumper-felt emotions. The one that caught you most, however, was regretful.

“Tagora.” She finally looked up. You met her tearful, sullen eyes.

“I forgive you.”

Through the tears and footsteps fading away, you knew a new title had been earned today.

The Betrayer.


End file.
